


Nahant, A Love Story

by naegiriko



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Alcohol, Emotions, Fluff, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Realization
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-13 20:45:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15372966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naegiriko/pseuds/naegiriko
Summary: MacCready isn't good at sharing his feelings. It takes the Sole Survivor, a mountain of dead raiders, and a little bit of whiskey to get him to open up.





	Nahant, A Love Story

**Author's Note:**

> garbage fluff because i have many emotions rn and the graphics on top of the libertalia look real asf

“You feel good?”

“Yeah, boss.”

They have just spent the past three hours shooting raiders into the Atlantic Ocean, off the shodden monstrosity dubbed the Libertalia. Working together, smoothly, quickly. Sunny’s callouts are warm in his ear, close for comfort. He points; MacCready shoots. If someone closes in on MacCready’s position, Sunny dispatches them with the snub nosed .44 on his hip. So they pick the raiders down one by one, watching their bodies slump into the glistening water below. It shouldn’t feel as good as it does. 

For Sunny, it feels like old times. It feels like Anchorage, like psycho in his veins, like his troop slapping him hard on the back. He’s busted his ass trying to find worth in the Commonwealth by helping others, but guiltily admits he’s a soldier at heart. Just a soft one. 

The submissive part of MacCready loves being Sunny’s bodyguard. Loves following commands, running to the horizon where the end of Sunny’s finger points. Gets wrapped up in his charm, the low voice, the boyish freckles on his face that contrast the masculine sway of his arms. It’s not masochistic in the slightest. He just wants to feel needed. Part of him worries that Sunny doesn’t keep him around out of tactical necessity, but deep inside he knows it’s true. It doesn’t matter. He likes their arrangement. Best a hundred caps he’s ever earned. 

And now they are at the edge of the universe, the extremity of Boston, peering over the near white water below, pools of blood settling around leathered bodies. Sunny is in his General’s coat and his army helmet, standing on a narrow plank overlooking the bay. The thick dark hair peeking beneath his helmet shines blue in the sun. His cheeks are flushed. It’s the most alive MacCready’s seen him look since meeting him in Goodneighbor.

“You certainly seem to be enjoying yourself up there,” MacCready quips.

Sunny hums in response. Mac wonders if he hasn’t settled down from the psycho high yet.

“Well, it’s been a good day, wouldn’t you agree?”

He considers it. They started the day at the crack of dawn, stocked up in Goodneighbor, ruffled down Daisy for a meager price cut, got out to Nahant by around two in the afternoon. Then got word from a farmer about raiders, went to check out Libertalia. By the standard of the past couple months, it was fine. But something seems to have changed inside of Sunny. Not broken or snapped. Fused; rekindled. His freckles look like pinpoints of light next to the flecks of sun on the water.

“Sure, boss, whatever you say.”

MacCready doesn’t care much for heights. Not as petrified as Deacon, but he’s sure as hell not comfortable up here, the high summit of this rickety mountain. He’s already flushed, hoping a couple gulps of whiskey could make him feel closer to the ground, make the ocean seem smaller, make the sky seem more like a cave. It doesn’t.

“When are you gonna stop pretending you don’t like me, Mac?” 

Sunny hops down from his roost, sits himself down at MacCready’s hip, next to the chair he’s sitting in. The sun disappears from his face in a rush, replaced with a mature shade that makes his narrow eyes seem sharper and more discerning, more ready to pull information out of MacCready.

The question catches him off guard, and he sighs gruffly into the draining bottle of whiskey. 

“I told you how I felt! That day I told you everything, about Lucy and Little Lamplight, when I gave you the little toy soldier.” MacCready flushes darker when he recalls the outpouring.

“I know, I know, but don’t you wanna open up a little more? As in, more regularly? Instead of saving all of your feelings for one day, I feel like it’d be a better coping strategy to just talk to me.”

“Like you know anything about being mentally healthy,” MacCready grunts under his breath.

“What was that?” Sunny nudges his skinny leg with his elbow, trying to goad him on. 

“Look, what do you want me to say, alright? I’ve said everything I can about us. I don’t know what you want to be clearer.”

“We never address things like today, MacCready. How well we fit together, like puzzle pieces, how well you receive my instructions on the field, the way you like to stay close by me. I couldn’t just buy a merc like that. That’s chemistry, or fate if you ask me. And if it’s not, if it’s guilt, or recompense, something like that--tell me. Because today, being with you, it’s like I’m seeing everything laid out before me. Like that.”

Sunny gestures to the ocean, sparkling new and blue. It looks like Duncan’s eyes in his first smile, like a promise.

It looks like Sunny, beaming up at him, leaning on his lap atop the rickety metal floor.

“You’re not wrong, Sunny. Everything, I--I feel it too. But just don’t--we can’t--if we do this we can’t afford to die out here. We gotta play it safe, you know. For us and our boys.”

“If you do what I tell you, we’ll be fine.” 

Sunny says it in a playful tone, but MacCready knows he’s right. He’s a brilliant tactician, a charismatic leader, and a damn good shot. 

“I fucking love you. I’m sorry, I promised not too, but I’m so stupid I can’t think of another word to spell it out. I fucking love you.”

Sunny nestles into his lap, still on the ground. MacCready weaves his hand through coarse hair, feeling him murmur against his thigh,

“I know.”


End file.
